


Speeding Towards Kokua

by Jinx (jinx37kat)



Series: Kokua [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinx37kat/pseuds/Jinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:  This was my first H50 fic I wrote back in December 2010.  Usually I write a death-story in any new fandom I’m in, but I didn’t feel like it this time {shock!}.  Though, I guess this is kinda close.</p><p>(Kokua means -- {noun-transitive verb} Help, aid, assistance, relief, assistant, associate, deputy, helper; co-operation; to help, assist, support, accommodate.)</p></blockquote>





	Speeding Towards Kokua

Steve had the gas pedal flush with the floor as he piloted the Camaro as fast as the curvy roads would allow down the mountain. He’d called Queen’s Medical as soon as he’s gotten Danny into the car, informing them of his emergency and to be outside waiting.

He and Danny had gone up the 61 to Nuuanu Pali Lookout northeast of Honolulu to meet with an informant who claimed to know the location of Graeme Gentry, the right hand man of a very powerful syndicate of human traffickers using Hawai’i as their personal dumping ground.

They should have known it was going to be a trap. HE should have known. When have informants ever been truly helpful? Even informants that he thought were trustworthy.

He glanced over at Danny, who was slumped in the passenger’s seat head tilted towards Steve, holding a bloody hand over the bullet wound in his lower left side, just under his ribs. The hand wasn’t doing a very good job of stopping the flow of blood, but, then again, the pressure Danny was trying to exert was loosening the further they drove; his hold onto consciousness clearly loosening as well.

Shoving the dread down as far as it would go, Can NOT panic, damn it!, Steve dragged in a deep breath and bit the inside of his lip, glancing over at his friend.

Danny was pale with the exception of two pink spots high on his cheeks. Blood was soaking further and further into his shirt, making the red circle around the bullet wound larger and larger. His left arm pushed into his side whether to help stem the flow of blood or in general pain, Steve wasn’t sure. Either way, it wasn’t doing much good; blood continued to slowly spread out from the wound.

Pushing his terror further down like he’d been taught, Steve took another deep breath.

When he felt more in control of himself, he looked over at his partner. “You know,” Steve’s voice broke through the sound of the sirens, causing Danny to jump slightly. “You’re gonna have to clean up this mess when you’re better.”

He grinned slightly as he watched Danny roll his eyes. “Figured you’d make me…,” Danny stopped to pull in some much needed air, causing him to grimace in pain and making Steve lose his tenuous hold on his smile. “…clean up my own blood, you bastard.”

Trying for levity and their familiar banter, Steve replied, “Well, it is yours.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and glared at his partner. “Which would not be…” two short breaths, “…outside of my body…” another breath, “…had you not…” two more breaths, “…started shooting.”

“So this is my fault?”

“I am not…” breath, “…starting this up with you again,” Danny panted, pain with the barest part of annoyed frustration lacing his words.

“So. This is my fault.” Not a question this time. And while this would normally be a part of their typical teasing, the voice in the back of Steve’s head told him that, this time, it was truly his fault.

“Your informant,” Danny breathed. “Your fault.”

“He wasn’t my informant. He was HPD’s. Besides, how was I supposed to know he would bring Gentry’s henchmen?”

“Henchmen?” Danny snorted, amusement in his pain-lanced voice.

“You know what I mean, damn it!”

Danny smirked, but it was quickly wiped from his face and he paled as pain spiked through his body, unable to hold back a whimper.

Steve caught the small sound and glanced over to his partner. “Danno?”

Danny’s eyes were screwed shut and he was wheezing through the pain.

“Danny? C’mon, man. Danny!”

The labored breathing continued for several seconds, causing Steve to panic further. He was going to lose his best friend; his partner; the one person in this state that actually got him; the one person in this state that gave as good as he got and never took any crap from him. He was going to lose Danny and, Steve swallowed hard, it was going to be his fault.

His eyes flickered over to his partner and he noted with some relief that Danny’s breathing had started evening out.

“Danny?”

After a few moments, Steve was rewarded with, “Yeah.” But the word was weak at best.

Several minutes later, Steve, still buried in his own tumultuous thoughts, was violently jerked back to the present when he heard a small, but nonetheless, demanding voice. “Well?”

Steve looked over at Danny as his brows drew together. “’Well’, what?”

Danny sighed, part in frustration but mostly in pain. “I’m waiting.”

“For?”

“’For’ he says,” Danny mumbled to the ceiling. Tilting his head down and glaring as much as he could through pain-glazed eyes, Danny snapped, “For an apology, of course.”

“For?” Steve knew where this was going but couldn’t resist the temptation to egg Danny on.

“Are you fucking serious?” Steve smiled at Danny’s outburst, weak as it was. “Did we…” he took a breath, “…not have this conversation…” breath, “…a hundred times before? Do we not,” another breath, “have the conversation each and every time this…”

“Sorry.”

Danny clamped his mouth shut, shocked blue eyes staring at Steve.

For his part, Steve gave himself a mental high-five for surprising Danny by apologizing so fast. Usually, they’d go back and forth until Danny was ready to pull his hair from his head and fling the strands at Steve. He loved to get one over on his friend and this was definitely one of those times.

After another second or two, Danny replied, “Thank you.”

Steve continued to barrel down the mountain at breakneck speeds that would usually have Danny threatening to throw up or rant at him for his recklessness. It was that lack of sound that jolted Steve from his thoughts -- the silence inside the car deafening. He spared a glance over at his partner and reached out his right hand, covering Danny’s own right hand that was trying to cover the wound, still slowly leaking blood.

“Danny?”

When there wasn’t an immediate answer, Steve turned his head around to take a more careful look at Danny again. The normally expressive blue eyes were closed and his breath was shallow and weak.

“C’mon, partner, stay with me!” Steve demanded.

Not wanting to cause his friend further pain, but having no other choice, Steve pressed down hard on the wound. “Danno!”

The grunt that answered him was music to Steve’s ears, though it killed him to hear Danny in so much pain. “Don’t call me that,” was the breathy reply. “Assho’,” Danny slurred even softer.

“You fucking stay with me, you hear me? There will be no sleeping, you understand?”

“Or what?” Danny snarked quietly.

“Or I kick your ass, that’s ‘or what’.”

Steve heard an inaudible snort and looked over at his partner.

“What?” Danny asked. “You and,” Danny stopped to take in a breath, “what army?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the dig. “Navy, Danno. I was in the NAVY! How many fucking times do I need to remind you?”

Danny’s left hand tried to flop around at the wrist, but didn’t go much further than his lap. “Army. Navy. Whatever.”

Steve swallowed. That was what was missing in this little exchange they were having… Danny’s wild hand gestures. But even with a bullet hole in his side, Danny was still trying to fling his hands, or rather, hand around. It gave Steve a little bit of hope.

“The Army and the Navy are two completely different arms of the military, Danno. One day you’ll learn this.”

“The day,” Danny breathed, “you stop,” breath, “calling me,” breath, “Danno."

Steve mocked frowned before he grinned and looked over at Danny. “So never, huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Apparently not.”

The sound of the sirens and Danny’s labored breathing were the only noises in the interior of the Camaro for a few moments. Suddenly Danny coughed, sending blood spraying from his lips. He scrunched down further in his seat, moaning, trying to fold in on himself from the pain. Steve held onto Danny’s hand over the wound, still pressing down, trying to stem the flow of blood. He looked over as he felt Danny’s left hand press over his own, sandwiching his hand between Danny’s own colder ones.

“Steve…”

Steve started shaking his head in denial. “No. Danny. Don’t you even say it! You will not… You will fucking stay with me, you hear me? Or…”

“Ass kicking. Yeah, okay.” Danny closed his eyes for a much too long second before slowly opening them and looking over at Steve, breathing heavily through his pain.

Steve squeezed the hand beneath his own. “Got it in one, buddy. And I’ll sic Chin and Kono on you, too.”

Danny’s breath hitched and he settled back down with a sigh. “No, please. ‘Fraid of them.”

Steve glanced over at Danny with an incredulous look. “What? You’re not afraid of me?”

Danny tried to smile through the pain. “Teddy bear.”

“What?!” Steve sputtered. “What?! You think I’m a teddy bear?!”

“Mmm,” Danny replied as his eyes slipped closed.

Eyes still on the road, Steve barked, “I am not a fucking teddy bear. I am a highly trained NAVY SEAL, god damn it! I am…!” He turned his head towards his partner to continue his rant and swallowed the rest of his tirade. “Danny? Do NOT do this to me, you asshole! You fucking stay…"

Danny opened his eyes and looked up at Steve. “Teddy bear.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and turned back to the road. “Hate you.” But there was no heat in the words and they both knew it wasn’t true anyway.

“Love me,” Danny answered.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, while still staring at the road.

There were a few more minutes of silence, punctuated only by Danny’s strenuous breathing and, of course, the ever present siren. Danny’s left hand unconsciously kneaded Steve’s right, which still covered Danny’s right one pressed over the wound.

Steve suddenly jerked when he felt Danny’s top hand grip his in pain. It shocked him enough that he took the next corner too hard and had to jerk his hand away from Danny and put it back on the steering wheel as he felt the Camaro lift up on two wheels for a split second before popping back down on the pavement with a jolt, causing Danny to moan. “Sorry, buddy, sorry.”

His right hand, slick with Danny’s blood, slipped on the steering wheel, making the car fishtail after the harsh landing. “Shit!” Steve exclaimed as he tried to right the vehicle for the second time.

Once the car was righted, Steve glanced over at Danny to find pain-glazed blue eyes staring at him.

“Danny?”

“Who the hell,” Danny replied breathlessly, “taught you,” another difficult breath, “how to drive?”

Steve glanced at the road before glaring over at his friend seeing pained amusement in Danny’s half-mast eyes. It eased Steve’s fear momentarily.

He grinned, though it was half-hearted, and reached over to put his hand back over Danny’s, pressing down on the wound once again. He noted that while the blood flow seemed to have slowed, it was still slightly oozing between their combined fingers and he tried to swallow past the knot in his throat.

“You watch,” Danny stopped to drag in another breath, which turned into three more short breaths, “NASCAR, don’t you?”

Steve glanced over to reply and felt himself pale as he noticed the slight blue tinge to Danny’s lips. He pushed down harder on the wound as well as the gas pedal, blocking out the moan from Danny. However, he answered, trying to keep his tone light, “I have better things to do with my Saturdays.”

Danny tried to chuckle, but it quickly turned into another painful cough that sent blood spewing from his lips once again to land on the dashboard. Steve saw the red dots in his peripheral vision and whipped his head around to see more blood specked on the bluer lips.

Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!

“Danny…” Steve chose to ignore the shake in his voice.

“How…” Danny started, before stopping to catch another precious breath.

“Stop fucking talking!” Steve yelled, anger and fear causing his cool Navy persona to vanish, though, if truth be told, it had vanished the second Steve watched Danny go down in the grass up at the point. “You have to concentrate on breathing. Okay? Can you just, please, please, stop fucking talking?” They both choose to ignore the fear in Steve’s voice.

“How,” Danny continued as though Steve hadn’t shouted, shallow breaths after every word, “do you,” breath, “know,” breath, “it’s on,” breath, “Saturdays?”

“God damn it, Danny! Will you just, please…”

Steve looked over at Danny again. Trying to keep his eyes on the road and on his partner was challenging, but he could not NOT look over at Danny. He was not going to lose that valuable connection for anything. Especially if…

So not going there, McGarrett!

They were finally off the 61 and heading north on the H1, nearing Honolulu, and the traffic was getting thicker the closer to they got to town. The lights and sirens blared out of the compact sports car, but people still refused to get out of their way.

“Steve.”

Keeping one hand on the wheel, one hand on his partner, and shifting his attention from the road to his partner, Steve negotiated the freeway like he really was on the circuit.

“How…” a weak voice floated to him over the sounds of the sirens, and Steve knew exactly what was being asked. Danny, true to form, was going to repeat the question, and probably repeat it over and over until he got an answer.

“Okay, damn it! I may have watched it once or twice.” Steve confessed, glancing over at Danny. “Happy now?” He took the hospital exit, whipping around traffic towards the ER.

The slightest lift of the corner of the now very blue tinged lips showed Danny’s victory.

“Yeah,” the sound was more air than word.

Steve looked over in time to see Danny’s eyes flutter close. Danny’s top hand slipped down and landed with a small thud on the leather while the hand pressed against the wound, beneath his own, went limp.

“Danny!” Steve gripped the hand he was holding in a tight fist. “Danno! Danny, you fucker, wake up! You will not do this to me, you son of a bitch! You WILL NOT!”

He pushed down on the wound hoping the pain would at least create a groan, a whimper, anything from Danny, but his partner remained silent.

He skidded the Camaro to a halt outside the ER, doctors and nurses already waiting for them.

 

Fin (?)

December 10, 2010

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was my first H50 fic I wrote back in December 2010. Usually I write a death-story in any new fandom I’m in, but I didn’t feel like it this time {shock!}. Though, I guess this is kinda close.
> 
> (Kokua means -- {noun-transitive verb} Help, aid, assistance, relief, assistant, associate, deputy, helper; co-operation; to help, assist, support, accommodate.)


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